Resting Roses

Like the roses,

My cheeks grow from a deep red,

To faded coasts.

Speckled throughout,

As a pedal falls and the bunch pouts.

Yet, always the thought to flourish.

The first roses,

When you chose us .

My sun-kissed kiss,

And snow burnt nose.

Just like the first rose.

To keep, just as fact.

To hold.

Even when black,

Even with old.

And while not guessed,

Day longer into the next.

The more composed,

For the very first rose.

At rest, you may lay the flower by me.

Growing together,

One with The.

Beginning roses to ending.

Speckled throughout.

What these roses are about.

To keep, to hold.

In the rays or in the cold.

Like the roses,

Colour of my cheeks.

And colour of when you chose us.